


Paper Cuts

by orphan_account



Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Other, Trans Character, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, venting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2019-12-07 13:30:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18235547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Kindness is a virtue not everyone can have, but sometimes you learn it the hard way. That might have been a mistake in this case, as not everyone is on the same page.Or in simpler words; Sal is left a little shell shocked when the kill 'em with kindness approach leaves him hallowed out when an experience with someone who he thought needed a friend takes more than he was offering.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So just a warning! There is sexual assault that is somewhat graphic, and there are themes of self blame.

Like most days, you sit up slowly with your bones snapping at their joints. The first thing you assess is the one functioning eye you have stings what you know is red since you had a pretty persistent case of waking up every few hours, thus disrupting your sleeping cycle. Maybe you should start sneaking your dad’s sleeping medication, or partaking in Larry’s own version of ‘sleeping medication’. However, the idea of anything altering your state of mind ignites a weird pang through your rib cage as it usually does. Besides. Weed has only ever made you more self-conscious of your movements combined with paranoia. You did notice you don't really dream, so that's a plus.

Basically dragging around your body through the morning, the temptation is there to just stay home since your father had left a night saying he won’t be back for a day or two. Whether or not that meant he was getting away from you to drink in solitude or he genuinely was away for work related escapades didn’t phase you in the slightest anymore. It did make you nervous to be all by yourself during the night in all honesty. You could likely stay at Larry’s if worse came to worst.

To do that though, you’ll have to go to school. The ditching thought is tossed. It’s Friday, anyway.

Soon, you meet your friend’s at the front of the complex. You subconsciously try to stand straighter in hopes that you seem taller than you are. The only thing that has ever made you dysphoric was probably that you were below average in comparison to anyone even if Ash doesn’t hesitate to tell you that you’ll eventually gain another inch or two. She’s still under the impression you’re just a late bloomer. That's not entirely untrue, though you don't think that you'll be getting any taller as your height has been stagnant for the past two years, giving you the measly height of just somewhere above 5 feet. Otherwise, your appearance doesn't really matter to you as much as it did through your formative years. Having a face that looks like the one you have makes you realize that you can practically do whatever you want with your appearance as you see fit and run with it. There's already enough going on that causes attention.

From there the day continues slowly. You're tired but remain as engaged as you possibly can. Most of it is desk work thankfully so you don't necessarily have to pay attention to the teacher discussing things you learned the year before. At least that's one thing you have always excelled at, generally being able to catch on to classes. In previous years, there wasn't much you would be doing in school if you hadn't been focusing on school work, being different made it difficult to make genuine friends, especially when it was visible differences.

Things are lethargic until about lunch, you pull apart a slice of pizza that's comparable to cardboard and slide your hand under your mask as your friends make idle conversation around you. You engage a little bit, though talking while eating always made you feel apprehensive. That maybe you would draw unwanted attention to the visible sides of your face, where there is a significant amount of scar tissue paired with a large dent in your jaw on the right side. Obviously they aren't going to say anything about it; you've all been friends for about three years so it's clear to them it isn't your favorite topic.

The typical outline of your daily routine ends when you're in the bathroom. Trying to quietly ignore Travis enter almost immediately after you have makes you reflect on to the conversation you had over a year ago through the bathroom door with him. You have talked with him here and there. It wasn't anything of substance. When he speaks directly to you with obvious intent, it's a little jarring.

“Fisher.” He starts.

“Travis.”

He pauses as you look up from the sink to see him standing behind you from the mirrors reflection. His brow is knitting. Hard to read. Then he continues.

“I mean Sal.” Pause. “Just wanted to ask if you wanted to hang out after school.”

Had you not a reason to fret a little bit you would feel bad since he seems genuine. There were so many reasons you shouldn’t accept, one of them being it could be a rouse. Then again, you do end up feeling like an asshole when you told the guy if he wanted a friend you would be there. He could have easily had a change of heart after realizing that you were honest about the offer. You look down at your hands while you chew your bottom lip pensively. Not wanting to take a long time on it, you decide why not.

Turning on your heel to face him, you give a nod.

“Okay. We could do that.” You almost question him. Maybe you should since his intentions are clouded still. Instead you keep it to yourself.

Travis straightens his posture which is weird. He seems almost… excited? He gives a nod back.

“Okay. Just don’t tell anyone. I don’t need shit from your friends.”

You kind of get that, when you think of telling Larry, you knew he would react by telling you not to. You did want to tell Todd or Ashley just do one of them would come around eventually. The motive is unclear here, yet for some reason you still agree to that stipulation.

“Okay.”

He goes on to shortly suggest you should go to your place. You assumed that anyway, nodding in agreement. If you don't give him a chance you can't really know.

As you split off into your respective classes, you wait for the bell with a knot in your stomach.

The walk after you meet is nothing short of awkward. You try to fill your mind with ideas of things that the two of you could possibly do that you would share in common where he is more of a church going sports type of guy, so you don't think that showing your interest in things most people would think of as macabre would appeal to him. Maybe it was best to let him initiate conversation when he was ready. With those things considered, you think that it was just him wanting to take your offer in being able to talk to you. You comment idly about the direction you're going in, but he still remains silent.

Of course that makes you a weary. Regardless, you think it's just the nerves of pondering how to act around someone you're not familiar with.

Since your town is small, you make it back to the front of your building. You don't hesitate to gain a little speed ahead of him, automatically pulling open the door for the both of you. Courtesy calls, you step out of the way for him to go first and he does so. Unsurprisingly, this was your only interaction outside of school or in all honesty Travis assuming his role of being the big school bully. A small subconscious voice says to you that at least Todd has long ago tapped into the hallway feed when you think of the worst things that could happen. You wouldn't see why he would take you to your home if there was something more nefarious going on, plus it didn't really seem that he had the intent of taking his bullying outside of the school walls.

The pair of you make it to the elevator where you punch in the fourth floor button simply named '4' on the panel. It's hard to emote a look of reassurance towards him with your prosthetic and all. You do briefly at him from behind your mask with the intent to read his body language while you both stand at opposite sides of the metal box. He seems nervous. It's hard to tell why. Maybe you were right about him just needing to vent, though it would be useful if he did allude to some sort of dialogue.

You both stand as the rickety metal box takes you up, dinging a few times at the floors it passes by. It felt right to attempt to break the silence as you were so close to your floor.

"Oh yeah. I have a cat. Hopefully you aren't allergic."

He speaks finally. "I'm not."

Very curt albeit a start.

"Cool," When in doubt, talk about your pets. "His name is Gizmo. Like from the movie Gremlins because he kind of looks like... Gizmo from Gremlins."

Not that you didn't sense his disinterest, since all he does is give a short nod with no eye contact. Thankfully silence doesn't have it's chance to reappear as the doors open to your floor. You step out ahead of him again, swinging your backpack to one shoulder in order to get the key out o the side pocket and unlock your door. This time, you open the door, letting yourself in first with him following behind you, promptly pulling the door shut.

Call it humble; you weren’t embarrassed by how outdated the building was. You toss your bag onto the couch before directing him to your room. What did embarrass you was that your medication was right out in the open. Normally you wouldn’t, you just would prefer not to get on that foot with Travis. It didn’t seem like he paid mind since he looked around your room at the posters. It gives you time to quickly open your drawer and put the bottles away. You figure he's seen you do it anyway, plus the noise of it all. But he doesn't comment even if he did. 

You hear footsteps behind you. Then you're being touched with an unrecognized kind of aggression suddenly from behind, hands rubbing roughly over your sides, breathing heavily. He still doesn't speak. 

Freezing is all it seems your body knows in response. 

Travis doesn't seem to take that a stop sign. You begin to pull away, declining. That doesn't work apparently since all of a sudden you are suddenly eye level with the carpet. 

Your heart rate goes up, several fears flag your mind, and you start pleading. The feeling is pathetic when you try to squirm up, a hand at the side of your head keeps you down, stiffening up when you think he's about to undo the straps of your mask. 

It's almost scarier that he doesn't say anything. You feel sick. You wish someone else was here. It's almost like you go into catatonic shock when he tugs at your pants, pinning your legs straight painfully with when of his knees in your calf. Of course, he comments on the fact that you're not carrying what he expected when you're easily overpowered, that's when you realize this is really progressing. 

It wasn't long; maybe less than ten minutes. Could be longer, could be less. You checked out somehow. He's already leaving in a hasty manner. Of course not without a swift warning 'not to tell anyone' which is reminiscent of what he had said in a previous conversation. 

Now you're alone to process what happened as soon as the door closes. In all the movies you have seen, you don't ball up sobbing in the spot you're left in. You just get up when it feels like your limbs are not fused into the positing they once were, standing on wobbly legs. You bring your pants back up, then readjust your shirt, feeling all around disgusting mentally, physically. You think you might be bleeding from the stinging. Putting your mask to hang on your bed post, it's like your head is buzzing still. 

With all this in tow, you think it's reason enough to shower. You feel numb as you try to reconnect the events of today. Taking off your clothes doesn't sit right with you either. It's almost what you imagine being drunk would feel like, you feel lightheaded, clumsy, and like standing is a chore. It didn't really matter that you left your glass eye in, you were thinking about going to Larry's for the night for sure now. After turning on the water you decided that yeah, standing is not optimal at the moment. Instead you sit under the water, scrubbing an old facecloth into your skin. This reminds you of movies now. You feel like you can't get clean. 

The thing that bugs you is that you had a feeling something wasn't right. Just in the way he approached you but wouldn't speak to you. Is it a possibility he just... thought it was okay? That this was what you were agreeing to. He gave you no context. In fact, he just went for it within the five minutes you were here. Would he still have done it if your dad was home? Or if Larry came with you? Can you even tell either of them? 

As much as you love Larry to death you feel like he will blame you for this happening. He would be angry you didn't tell him, that you even let Travis here in the first place, that you were alone with someone who you have only known as a bully. Your gut instinct was to say no in the first place, and you should have listened to yourself before letting the idea of being kind to someone who in retrospect didn't deserve it into your home with you alone. Though you realize that this isn't what you had in mind when you first had the inkling that maybe this wasn't right, you can't help but think you could have just gone home with Larry and Todd and hung out together in the basement. Now, you're sitting here sore, alone, and feeling gross. 

Not that you're one to believe in chastity but it dawns in your mind that was your first time. Not that you think it counts, but it was your only sexual experience. It feels shallow that you think of it that way. It feels like you're not processing this correctly. 

Spending about an hour in the bottom of the tub before the water runs cold, then almost in a robotic way go through the motions of taking the towel you set on the sink, drying your face, wrapping it around yourself, avoiding the mirror while you brush your hair, avoiding the mirror while you brush your teeth, avoiding the mirror while you apply your silicone based face cream, then going back into your room for a new hair elastic since you lost one of the ones you had earlier, while the other was on your wrist. 

Pausing as you enter, the room makes you feel unsettled now. It used to be a comfortable place for you to get away from everyone when you needed solitude. Now it left you feeling uneasy. 

While dressing yourself, you stand directly in the spot you had before when you put your medication away. A simpler way of designating this as the spot where everything went wrong. You wonder for a moment if there is any stains on the carpet but you don't want to look for it right now. 

It's only about 4:30PM. Pajamas are still more comfortable at the moment, as is just wearing your hair loosely up since you feel an impending migraine. Gripping onto the walkie-talkie you're still not going to stay here, but you're unsure of how to act normal. Larry can usually tell when you're not in a good mind space, but really you only feel numb. It's more a matter of figuring out how to lie about why you might act weird. It's too early to sleep and waiting to go later just... well, you don't want to. All in all, you don't even want to be in your apartment. 

Your thoughts are paused when the radio emits noise in your hands. 

"Dude, where you been the last few hours?" You feel both ease and anxiousness at Larry's voice. Of course you debate on just not answering and showing up later, maybe you could say you took a nap. It's not like Todd has a reason to tap into the camera feed today anyway. But you don't want to be here either. Everything seems to be conflict in your head. 

Despite that, the overwhelming desire over all remained that you didn't want to be alone in here by yourself. You click the button after another minute. 

"I just went straight home," You practically roll your eyes at the cracking in your voice. "I was tired. So I slept for a little while." 

He waits to make sure you're finished, and takes the bait. "Fair enough, I could kinda tell. If you're down for it though, you know where I am."

The numbness never died down. You keep mostly looking at the clock while thinking about how long ago it was. It was still bothering you that it seemed you weren't processing this how you feel you should. Maybe it was because you weren't well versed in sex-- No. It wasn't that. He knows it, you know it. You very clearly declined. Struggled. But on the other hand you did just let it continue and it's hard to say why you didn't try harder. 

Almost forgetting to reply, you click the button hastily to reply since you zoned out there. "Give me a few minutes." 

You don't hear his reply as you toss the radio on the bed, muffling the sound since it landed speaker down. Leaning over to to your mask, securing it all while you debated with yourself if you should say anything at all to him. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little short but next will be longer. Warnings for more themes of self blame and unhealthy coping. <3

Initially you were going to wait it out while you collect your thoughts, but it seemed to just be an endless string of second guessing yourself and over-complicating every aspect of what happened. One side was angry, very betrayed. You extended an olive branch to someone who was nothing short of a terroristic bully towards you, then thinks he's entitled to take what he wanted. In your own home nonetheless. The other side was less logical. It's almost like you tried to make it better by thinking maybe because you froze that to him it was hesitation. Those thoughts are cut short by the deepening bruise on the back of your calf and where you can still feel the imprint of his hand holding down your face. It’s nothing you asked for, and the two of you were well aware of that.

Weirdly enough out of everything you're just glad that he didn't try to take off your mask which you could chalk up to some sort of psychological thing your brain is doing to cut the focus of the real problem you haven’t fully digested yet. Either way he knows the other thing about you. You have high hopes he won’t not tell anyone since he gave you a warning to not say anything.

Eventually you did find yourself down in the basement after doing tasks you would normally for Gizmo when leaving for a night. Though you know he's fine, you sometimes hate leaving him there all by himself for the night. Neither Lisa or Larry is allergic so you could take him, but that would entail a lot of extra preparation when you know he likes his alone time. He has a full bowl and cleaned litter box, as well as television playing in the background. Definitely in his prime.

Lisa isn't here. What's a guaranteed when that happens is Larry is going to drink. So maybe you’re just not going to say anything because you never know how people are going to act when under the influence. He isn't much different in comparison when sober when you think about it. Maybe a little more honest but less insightful. Plus, he never drinks much which is starkly different from how your father would be belligerent at some points when he was in the height of his alcoholism. 

But that brings you to this point where you’re being gently offered a couple drinks. 

“Like, I know shits rough with your dad, but if you want some I feel bad not offering you something when I’m sitting here being the only one drinking.” Larry is genuine about understanding, you get it. You’re friends. It’s not that he wants to pressure you; but he wants to share since most people around your age typically do this type of thing. Not everyone has the kind of baggage you do.

This time it’s a little different. You feel like shit in all ways around, so what would really be the harm in doing this in a place where you’re safe? Fiddling with the hem of your shirt cuff, you decide to take him seriously just to test the waters. 

“I guess it wouldn’t be the first time. If you’re sure about it, I mean.” 

Larry’s initial reaction is surprise, made more apparent by the fact he’s already drunk. In over three years of continuously being friends you’ve almost never accepted a drink from him unless it was something easy to manage like a few beer or a single shot. Those times were both during the anniversary of your mother but you always didn’t feel right with how it sat in your chest. The last thing she would want is both her people in your tiny little family drinking in her honor. Last year was a disaster for you as well, and that’s where you figured out that an empty stomach doesn’t do well with rum so you should know that this isn’t a great idea without at least a peanut butter sandwich. It’s not the time for that though.

It’s like you had a change of heart all of a sudden. Dealing with what happened earlier was too depressing, and any distraction was a good one. Maybe this could be it. Sure, bad idea. You will just chalk this up to a mixing of impulsivity and not entirely caring just this once. 

\--

To your surprise you feel better. Dizzy, a little too giggly, but it’s better than dwelling on what past trauma has already taught you can’t be changed. It doesn’t take much to get to this point of drunkenness since you’re quite thin in comparison to Larry, not to mention far less experienced. The four shots you have taken in the past hour and a half were ill advised. Larry doesn’t seem to mind you’re a little messy already. You think this might be the drunkest you have been yet, but you’re not out of control. Seeing your father do all sorts of dumb shit growing up made you think that by this point you would catatonic. 

This wasn’t as bad as you initially thought it was. Things are spinning, though you can engage in endless conversations about nearly anything while seeming to forget other things going on in your life. The other thing is still present, but any physical pain you felt isn’t nearly as achy. The clock on the wall tells you it’s only about 6:30 after you stare long enough at it. It’s a little bit harder with your depth perception issues, and as far as you know this qualifies as drunk due to the lack of coordination you have. It would be better to wait though, since you’re unsure what point is your barrier before you end up sick or something.

“Someone’s had a little change of heart when it comes to bein’ all straight edge.” Larry picks at you a little, you just give him a snort at that while you lay back on his bed with your feet swinging off the side of it a little. 

“Bad day, give me a break.” 

“Yeah?” His eyebrow quips at you a little. “Kinda noticed you were a little quiet.” 

Now you regret drinking. You bring your hand up to your hair and play with the loose strands hanging out from the messy ponytail you decided to put it in. It seems that it’s on the tip of your tongue with the lubrication of liquor. Good thing you stop yourself. 

“I... dunno if I should say anything right now.” Stupid answer, but all you could spit out quicker than you can tell yourself he of all people see through it. 

 

You can tell he’s watching you pick at your hair. Even when he drinks, he’s still smart enough to know when something is up. It feels like whole minutes pass by before he speaks.   
“Can’t make you but this is a good a time as ever.”

The thing is that he has a point. You sit up and cross your legs together with your hands in your lap as you piece together the words. It’s better to get it out now while you feel you can, but you know already it’s going to come out not the way you ever wanted to have to put it. Normally, you just wouldn’t talk about your traumatic experiences, but this one felt like it was something you needed to say eventually if it did ever come back to bite you in the ass. Maybe phrasing was key here. He doesn’t need to know who or when. And you know he won’t tell anyone if you tell him not to. 

Sitting this way doesn’t feel comfortable and neither does the next. So, you’re sitting there building up anticipation while you fidget uncomfortably. Now you feel stupid because you really don’t want to have to get into the grit of it all while you are not in the mindset to be talking about this sort of thing. But it comes out the way it does and your gaze never leaves the floor.

“I think someone-- Or I mean, I know they did.” You clear your throat with a cough. “I got, like, assaulted.” 

Larry goes quiet when you say that. You don’t look up. 

“In, like, what way?” 

You should have figured that one too. He wasn’t just going to assume until you were completely clear. You can’t necessarily worm your way out of not telling him now, backtracking or retracting completely from the conversation will just lead to further concern. 

“In a… bad way kind of way.” It comes out mumbled, feeling childish. Your hand finds its way back at the ends of your hair subconsciously.

“Dude.” His posture changes to lean in closer to be comforting but changes in a way that you can tell he’s unsure of how to approach this. Admittedly it’s as foreign to him as it is you but you know body language well enough to decipher that. As he let’s it sink in, your body starts reacting on its own, setting in a tremor. Groaning at no one but yourself, you bring your hands to the outside of your mask and rub it there as if it’s skin. 

“It’s, I don’t know, not as big a deal as it seems, I’m fine for the most-”

“It’s totally a big deal, shit, when did this happen?”

God.

“Uh.” You take a moment to collect your thoughts. Easy answer. It just takes a second for your brain to stop telling you to blow off this subject. “It was… recent, I guess.”

A long pause follows as Larry gets clearly restless. Could be he’s uncomfortable with it.   
He sighs, rubbing his face into his hands then looks at you. “This is a lot to take in, man. I definitely know who it is and I’ll deal with it personally if the cops don’t.” He stood up, and started pacing. You knew it was a bad idea to bring it up but apparently rum makes you a motormouth.

It takes a moment to find your voice though it’s still a little shaky. You do your best to compose yourself. “I don’t wanna make it a big deal or anything. I’m not telling you so you’ll go out and do something.”

You have to give it to Larry. It’s not hard to tell he’s all up in arms about this, he tries to be gentle in his own weird way, calming himself with a harsh sigh before taking his seat on the edge of the bed again. The gesture is a little irking since in your mind you should be feeling more fucked up over this than you do but at least he doesn’t look ready to punch the nearest wall. 

There’s a long silence between you both. The stereo is still playing, which aids you so he can’t hear the unevenness of your breathing. 

“At least give me a name.” The inevitable question formed more like a demand.

Either you could keep fighting him on this or just come out and say it. Normally you’re not so stubborn thought the occasion calls for it, plus you’re starting to feel like a cornered animal thought that’s something you should have felt earlier and not now when being extended a hand in all of this.

“It’s not important, nothing can be done and I’m okay.”

“Okay, what if I don’t do anything? Would you tell me then?”

The bargaining chip of silence is appealing. You know better than that since if he knew exactly who and when and what, he wouldn’t keep that promise. It’s hard to think of the name without feeling grimy again let alone saying it out loud. 

“Because you definitely will do something.”

He almost looks like he’s going to give in, then he persists anyway despite what you say. “I won’t. This will live and die between us, little buddy.”

Something in you decided that maybe it was a good idea. After letting the silence simmer for a minute of thinking through everything, you loosen from a previously tight shoulders and prep yourself for a minute before letting it all out.

“I’ll tell you but only because I’ve yet to see you break one yet,” Shifting to hug your knees, you lean your back against the wall before you start recounting. “To get it out of the way, it was kinda today,” His expression changes at that, turning himself to sit cross legged to face you. You can tell he wants to comment, but instead waits for you to continue. “I’m just… empty. I dunno. Anyway. At school someone asked to come hang out and it was really weird. I should’ve known,” You’re feeling angry at yourself now, but continue through it. “We walked here and went to my place. We were there for a few minutes in my room and then…” He doesn’t need that much detail. “Yeah. He left and I took a shower. And here we are.” 

Larry doesn’t comment, just looks at you then the blanket under you both. It almost startles you when he speaks up. “Then I know who it is. I saw him go to the bathroom after you did. Kinda figured it out after you said it was today.”

Your heartbeat picks up a bit. “You can’t say anything.” 

What you want or maybe what you need is for him to say ‘I know’ followed by ‘and I won’t’. In reality this is what you knew what would have happened had you felt a little too candid over some drinks, so now you’re here and he sits in silence. The first thought in your head is that now he maybe thinks you’re stupid. To have someone state what you know as obvious would feel worse than knowing it yourself but that doesn’t come. Normally you pride yourself on knowing what your friends are thinking. This is not one of those instances. It takes a while before he speaks, gruff in tone in a way that makes you feel a little queasy. 

“I don’t really gotta tell him what his ass whoop is for.” 

The topic is worn at this point. There’s no point in dragging it to death. You’re tired and a little sick in the stomach from the combination of both alcohol and speak on the topic of a fresh trauma being brought together. So instead of beat a horse while it’s down, you just nod and obviously move on while stretching out. “Fair enough, fine, alright. Okay. I know it’s early but… Maybe we could just go to bed? I feel kind of not good.”

Larry’s response is quick this time. “Right. We can do that.” 

The process of you shifting to be in line with the headboard nearer to the wall and him putting things away then turning off the light feels much faster now that you don’t have to talk on that. The stereos off, now his warmth beside you which is the calming effect you think you looked for in the boozy endeavors that should have never taken place to begin with. You feel safer this way. More so when he snakes an arm around your waist when you shake when you're not preoccupied with anything but trying to fall asleep but instead rewinding over and over again the events of the day.

How it goes Monday? You’ll have to see.


End file.
